


Genre

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Noir, M/M, god AU, lots of AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 10:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Compilation of AU-based prompts taken on Tumblr!





	1. God AU Rhack

**Author's Note:**

> “Ancient god refuses to let their only worshipper/lover still alive age or die” for Rhack!

Anyone who brought up Rhys at all gets a punch to the face.

And anyone who suggested that Rhys’ mind has long left his body got tossed into the pit and left to the hunger of the Warrior.

Jack argued that it was a proper price to pay for an utter lack of common sense. Only a fool dared to ask a god such questions, to tread upon Rhys’ honor in such an insolent fashion. He usually delighted to hear any such offenders last cries as they were ripped to shreds by his pet, their remains roasted and fed upon for days.

One such apostate was still gurgling on the blood boiling in his lungs when Jack grew bored, or annoyed by the sound, leaving the main chamber of his lair and retreated down more softly lit corridors to the more intimate room where he lately spent most of his time. This was were Rhys lied, rested atop a dais strewn with perpetually blooming flowers as blue as the sky and as delicately white as the moonlight.

His skin was still perfect and porcelain, tattoos still dark and distinct, never fading from his flesh. His lips were pink as the pale curve of a sea shell, their call now quiet. Jack wanted to hear that voice again, not strained and sick with begging but strong and smart like it had been before he’d been forced to put Rhys to sleep.

Jack’s own golden jewelry jingled as he sat by Rhys’ side, pressing those pale, still fingers to his lips. And when he closed his eyes, he could believe the quiver of his own smile was a twitch of life deep within his lover’s soul.


	2. Modern AU Rhysothy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “10: Broken up couple run into each other near the winter holidays while they’re both lonely” for Rhysothy!

Rhys had promised himself he would never end up in this position again.

It’s why he’d left Timothy that morning with nothing more than a quick note left on the deserted breakfast table as he had Vaughn pack away his belongings and take him away from the small, cozy apartment he’d shared for the better part of his twenties.

Rhys had promised himself that never again would he be so selfish as to let Timothy welcome him back into his life.

But that was before he had accidentally run into the older man at the quiet, upstate lodge he’d purposefully booked his holiday vacation in due to its solitude and isolation.

Rhys had been ready to simply get into his car and go, drive the hours and hours back to Vaughn’s apartment, but Tim had smiled at him earnestly, his well-muscled body wrapped so tightly in a red and white sweater that its stitching looked like it was about to burst. And the hint of sadness still lingering in Timothy’s eyes as he’d offered Rhys to sit down for a cup of hot chocolate was enough to draw Rhys hopelessly back in until they were resting shoulder to shoulder in front of the grand, roaring fire.

“Tim…” Rhys sighed, turning his head to nuzzle into the older man’s shoulder even as his features hung with trepidation. “I just…I’m worried…”

“You only hurt me when you left…” Timothy whispered into the near-empty cup of his hot chocolate, looking down at Rhys with a sad smile. Rhys swallowed around the lump in his throat, tears starting to brim underneath his eyelids. He heard the scrape of the heavy, comfortable chairs against the wood floor as Tim turned to him, setting down his mug with a  _clink_  before cupping Rhys’ face in both hands. Soft fingers rubbed at Rhys’ tear tracks, tipping the young man’s chin up.

Rhys tried closing his eyes, remembering his promise.

“ _Rhys_ …honeypie…”

He gasped, eyes flying open at the nickname. Those calming, green orbs glimmered as they smiled down on him, watery with hope.

“God,  _don’t_ …” Rhys chuckled hoarsely, wiping at his nose with his sleeve, “you’re gonna make me fall in love with you again….”

“And…I mean…would that really be so bad?” Tim whispered. Their faces were closer now. Rhys could practically feel the warmth radiating off of Timothy’s skin. The smell of pine and fresh snow that seemed to permeate the entire lodge gave way to Tim’s own musky vanilla and cinnamon that reminded Rhys of fresh baked muffins and brewing tea and sunlight filtering over apple red hair.

“No…not at all.” Rhys leaned in close, meeting Tim’s lips in a gentle sigh. 

Breaking a promise has never been this much of a relief.


	3. Noir AU Rhysquez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “18: Private eye “knew they were trouble the moment they walked in”, falls for them anyway” for Rhysquez!

Hugo P. Vasquez knew exactly who it was who was standing in front of him in his office, even before the young man opened his mouth.

“—Rhys Somerset. I know. Everyone in this city knows who you are,” Hugo stated plainly, raising one thick eyebrow as a smile crept over the other man’s face.

“I suppose I should have presumed as much. Big smart detective like you,” Rhys smirked, placing his hands on his hips as he swayed close to Hugo’s desk. Hugo’s eyes flickered down, quickly noting a creamy little strip of skin between the hem of Rhys’ shirt and his tightly belted waistband. He could see the hint of some kind of blue tattoo creeping up his left hipbone, a stylized hook meant to lure him in. He grimaced.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Somerset, you’ll find I’m not as easy to seduce as some other men out there,” Hugo quipped as he pushed himself away from his desk, leaning back into his leather chair with a creak. Rhys laughed, like a mother laughing at the ignorance of their child, and bent forward, resting both hands on the edge of Hugo’s desk. The intricately engineered, bright gold hand glinted in the change of light, slats of sun spilling in from between the blinds behind Hugo’s head.

“All the better. Because I’m not exactly looking for just a quick fuck here. Though if that’s part of your price, I won’t be necessarily opposed.” Rhys’ lips might be smiling, but his eyes held a cold and calculating presence that commanded Hugo to listen, even as he groped around the drawer in his desk for a distracting cigar.

“Handsome Jack is missing.”

Hugo’s large fingers fumbled with the cigar box, sending it spilling into the belly of the drawer. Instead of swearing, however, he looked up, brows knit together in confusion.

“I….that’s impossible. I—the entire city must’ve seen him on the news only a couple hours ago. He was dedicating the new statue in Helios Park—“

“What you saw was a body double,” Rhys stated plainly, scratching his metallic forefinger against the thickly lacquered desk top, “Handsome Jack has been missing for several days now.”

Hugo sat still for a moment, trying to let this new information sink in.

“I…so…do you want for me to trawl the river for the body?”

“Handsome Jack isn’t  _dead_ ,” Rhys hissed, sending a chill down Hugo’s spine. The flicker of displeasure and anger on Rhys’ features was quickly replaced by that smooth, placating smile as the young man circled around the table, turning Hugo’s heavy chair to face him as if the detective weighed little more than a feather.

“ ‘How do you know that’ you must be thinking. It’s simple. Jack promised me the only way he would die would be if I killed him. And I didn’t. So he must be alive.”

To Hugo, that sounded like a whole lot of bullshit, and the likelihood that they would find Jack’s corpse half buried in the park or dissolved in a vat of chemicals seemed high, given his reputation. But with Rhys’ fingers winding in his tie, the flat yellow grinding beneath the sleek, golden joints, and the cold blue eye searching his soul for doubt, he could only muster a quick nod and a shallow “ _okay_.”

“Good,” Rhys purred as he released him, and only then did Vasquez realize just  _how_  close they had gotten. Rhys knee was up and resting on the seat between his thighs, and his other hand was resting comfortably on the detective’s shoulder, warning him to not dare try to move.

“Now,” Rhys trailed his finger up to the knot of Vasquez’s tie, swiftly sliding it loose, “lets talk about your  _payment_.” 


	4. Royal AU Rhysothy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "16: Soul heir of the royal family is saved by a loyal guard who’s secretly in love with them" for Rhysothy!

Rhys has never seen this much blood before.

As a child he’d cut himself on a thorn from a rose in one of their gardens, and his mother had soothed his crying by softly kissing his injured finger, before taking him to the castle infirmary and getting it proper bandaged up.

And now his mother is lying slain at the floor of the main corridor and Rhys’ has nothing but a torrent of blood where his right forearm used to be.

He can barely hear his own screaming as he falls backwards, terrified whines crawling from his throat as the shadows of the mutinous guards fall over him. Tears cloud his vision, bile bubbling in the back of his throat as the pain and shock tries to drag him down into the darkness, leaving him helpless before the snickering, evil faces of the guards swarming over him.

He’s just about to pass out, to give in to death when a furious, familiar roar tears through his senses. His eyes fly open just in time for a corona of flame to consume the air above him, blasting heat only warm to his injured body even as it blisters the flesh and scorches the bones of his attackers, the stone corridor echoing with their dying screams.

Rhys flickers at the edge of unconsciousness as he feels strong hands gently lift his upper body from the steadily growing pool of blood beneath him. His head hangs back heavily, neck too weak to support its weight, but out of the corner of his swimming vision he can see the concerned face of Timothy Lawrence.

He was Rhys’ favorite of all his personal guard, and certainly stood out with his handsome, almost boyish good looks and earnest, down-to-earth personality. He was kind and attentive, and had just earlier in the week taken Rhys to the forest to pick wildflowers for the grand hall’s spring bouquets.

And he, apparently, also knows magic.

“Tim…” Rhys coughs weakly, his head still spinning as the stump of his arm throbs with leaking lifeblood. He can see very little and hear even less, even though he knows Tim must be speaking to him. He feels his body rest back against Timothy’s chest, his heart thrumming with a comforting energy as the numb stump of his arm is lifted into Timothy’s hand. Rhys’ remaining vision is suddenly consumed with a bright, green glow, and briefly the skin of his arm burns so hot it feels like its on fire. His lips move to gasp but before he can even eke out a sound all pain vanishes like a snuffed candle.

Rhys’ body is still heavy with exhaustion as he lays back in Timothy’s firm grip, vaguely aware of the ground shrinking away as he’s lifted and carried in the guard’s solid arms. Tears roll silently down the young prince’s face even as sweet lips press against his temple, and after a couple more moments of consciousness, Rhys finally allows himself to slip away into senseless oblivion.


	5. Detective/Criminal AU Rhysothy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “4: Detective secretly sleeping with criminal who they purposefully don’t catch" for Rhysothy!

“Are you ever going to arrest me?”

Timothy furrows his eyebrow, trying to chase away the sleepiness that has started to settle between his eyes. He yawns, cracking his jaw as he rolls onto his back, lolling his head to look at Rhys. The younger man is sitting up, knees drawn to his chest and arms wrapped about his calves, looking down at Tim.

“…Wha?”

Rhys huffs, sticking out his lower lip like he’s upset, which Tim doesn’t understand. They’d just finished having sex in Rhys’ favorite position. Tim had been sure to kiss him along the spots of Rhys’ neck that he knew to be super sensitive. Earlier Tim had even made pizza and bought Rhys’ favorite flavor of ice cream.

Tim is confused. Hadn’t he been perfect?

“I just…aren’t you a cop? You’re supposed to want to…you know…arrest me,” Rhys continues. Tim frowns, sitting up against the headboard as he reaches over, resting one broad hand atop Rhys’ knee. The young man flinches, eyes falling to where Tim is touching him.

“…Don’t. I…I’m…you know I’m still stealing things. I’m not going to stop. I talked to Fiona today and we’re planning something. You can’t make me stop.”

Tim looks on blankly, which is apparently the wrong thing to do. Rhys sighs, sliding away from Tim and flopping onto his side. He wipes his nose with his knuckle, sniffing angrily.

“You should just arrest me.”

The silence between them stretches so long that Rhys almost bolts when Tim sighs and drapes a warm arm over his waist. His hand slides over Rhys’ own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Can’t we just enjoy this…?” Tim mumbles into Rhys’ ear, affectionately nuzzling at the shell. “We had great sex. Great pizza. You got to pet my cat. Life is good.”

He pulls Rhys closer, tucking the young man’s head underneath his chin. Rhys doesn’t move, or respond, but Tim can feel him relax, and even if it’s only by a fraction, it’s enough to get Tim to fall back asleep.


	6. Omegaverse AU Rhack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “9: Cheating on a loveless arranged marriage but unable to leave for some reason” for Rhack with one-sided Rhysquez. 
> 
> Warning for mpreg and omegaverse!

“I don’t understand why you can’t just leave the asshole.”

Rhys snorted as he snuggled back into Jack’s bare chest. 

“You’ve got two handfuls of the reason why there, you know.”

Jack pouted, his hands rubbing softly over the prominent bulge of Rhys’ stomach. Rhys had said it was still too early to feel any kicking from the outside, but that hadn’t stopped Jack from almost obsessively touching the omega’s belly, convinced any second he was going to feel the tap of the pup against his palm.

“Kiddo, I told you if you want me to play daddy I’m totally down for that. Ready to take ‘em to soccer practice or play dress-up or whatever.”

“ _And_  clean up their messes and feed them at 3am and all the other not-so-fun parent stuff?” Rhys teased as he shifted his hips, getting a little bit more comfortable on Jack’s waning knot. The alpha rubbed his nose against Rhys’ neck, lacing his fingers together around the underside of the omega’s stomach. 

“You know I’d bitch less about it than  _he_  would.”

“Yeah. But  _he_  has the money. Can’t raise a kid on an entry-level programmer’s salary…not in this economy.”

“Mmmmm I get it, you know I’m  _working_  on it, sugar,” Jack tapped his free thumbs against Rhys’ warm skin, “besides can’t you just take half of everything he owns in the divorce? That’d be more than enough to get a cute little apartment with an extra room where I can start building my dynasty.”

A wistful little smile drifted over Rhys’ lips at Jack’s ambition. 

“You’re really pushing for this, huh?”

“I would like to be able to hold your hand in public  _without_  worrying about him, yes.” Jack kissed right under Rhys’ earlobe. “Who knows what he’s gonna do? It’s gonna be worse than when you told him you were preggo…”

Rhys thought for a moment, before sliding his hands down the round curve of his stomach, leaving them to rest over Jack’s interlocked fingers. 

“Tell you what,” Rhys turned to look up at the alpha, “let’s say….if the baby kicks tonight, then I’ll divorce Hugo. And if he doesn’t…”

Jack’s fingers suddenly pressed more insistently into Rhys’ belly, drawing a pleased chuckle out of the omega. 

“Well, then I’ll just have to keep thinking about it until he does.” 


	7. Detective/Criminal AU Rhack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "4: Detective secretly sleeping with criminal who they purposefully don’t catch" for Rhack!

Handsome Jack is a murderer.

Rhys already has all the evidence he needs to make an arrest. In fact, he gets more and more every night he encounters Jack, because  murder is so ingrained in the man’s life that it’s become an inescapable part of his foreplay.

The clues that draw Rhys to each bloody scene of Jack’s killings are left deliberately, now, like a trail of crumbs leading to derelict apartments, dark alleys, the heavy, secretive copses deep in the city parks. Sometimes, Jack flees the scene after Rhys arrives, knowing that Rhys knows the way to his lavish home, knowing that the detective will follow like moth drawn to the flame. Sometimes, however, he lingers, running bloody hands through his hair and leaving it sticky and stiff, standing up in odd, attractive peaks that cut a nightmare silhouette in the glimmering light of the moon that glows upon his smile.

Either way, Rhys always ends up in the same place. If Jack doesn’t lead him through the doors himself then the man’s bodyguard is there to open it and greet Rhys as if he is an old friend rather than the man investigating his master for murder. Now, Rhys starts towards the stairs long before Wilhelm points “up and to the left,” and he’s even start to thank the bodyguard in a hushed voice as he flits up to Jack’s room like a shameful shadow.

The first couple of times, Jack had been completely clean by the time Rhys had arrived, body washed and stripped of the bloodied clothes now lying discarded in the hamper. Lately, however, Jack has stayed resting on the bed, staring at the door with a smile on his face until Rhys creaks it open slowly, peering around the edge as if he still has something to fear.

Their first round will be rough and up against whichever surface Jack has chosen, and the killer will leave bloody handprints all over Rhys’ wrists and hips as he huffs deep, metallic breaths against the back of the young detective’s neck.  

Their next round will inevitably lead into the shower, where the blood will wash from both their bodies and drip down the veins of grout in the wall as Rhys is pinned up against it. Jack’s grip always softens here, the warm water putting him into an glassy trance as he runs his hands up and down Rhys’ body like he’s forming it from a piece of tender clay, and Rhys always bends willingly to his touch as the beat of the water drowns out his cries.

Finally, they will finish in the bed with Rhys’ hair still damp and water flecking off of Jack’s powerful body as he fucks into the detective. Here, wrapped in a husk of sheets, Jack is something else—something far from both the vicious, blood-splattered murderer of the night and the shrewd, groomed businessman of the day—and as Rhys looks up into the steady, blue-green eyes as deep and beautiful and dangerous as the ocean lapping above the drop-off, it feels like the beginning of a cycle he can’t hope to stop.


End file.
